


Taking A Logical Approach

by afteriwake



Series: bathe my soul in colours [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Amused John, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Frustrated Sherlock, Helpful John, Logic, Logical Sherlock, Married Mary Morstan/John Watson, POV Sherlock Holmes, Pining Sherlock, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes and Feelings, Sherlock Logic Is The Best Logic, Sherlock-centric, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Victorian John Watson, Victorian Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 10:23:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6191356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is quite aggravated he’s made no further progress in discovering the identity of his soul mate and he grouses to his best mate, who tries to get him to look at things logically. But logic, for once, is the last thing on Sherlock’s mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking A Logical Approach

**Author's Note:**

> I promise, _soon_ Sherlock will discover her identity. But I thought it would be fun if I strung it out just a _little_ bit longer. Written for Day 2 of Sherlolly Appreciation Week on Tumblr.

Sherlock hated an unsolvable problem, and that was what it seemed the mystery of who his soul mate was was.

He had spent two days searching for any clue he could as to her identity. He’d plied the guests he could identify for information on what they had been wearing, on what their friends had been wearing, on what random bloody strangers had been wearing. And yet no one knew who the woman in the green dress with the peacock feathers on her mask had been even though many had conversed with her. It was maddening.

It was just after noon and he was still in his pyjamas and dressing gown, playing his violin almost in a frenzy, when his partner in his consulting business came up the stairs to the sitting room. He had known John Watson many years now, and they had been together through quite a bit, been together through thick and thin. If there was such a thing as platonic soul mates he was sure that that was what they were. He trusted no one else in the world as much as he trusted this man. It was the look on his face and the fact he brought his hands over his ears that caused him to remove his bow from the strings and lower his instrument. “What in blazes is the matter with you?” he asked.

“I met my soul mate,” he said sullenly.

John blinked, looking confused. He knew why John gave him that look. John had found his soul mate a few years prior, a woman named Mary Morstan, and suddenly they had both been able to see the colour green. Sherlock knew right away she had been hiding a rather dubious past, one that tied into a criminal empire he had been working on taking down, but with her help the three of them had managed well enough. John had decided her past didn’t matter, that the only thing that mattered was their future together, and so far it had been a blissful one. So for Sherlock to seem so sullen about finding his soul mate seemed unusual. “Is there a problem of some sort?” he asked, moving to take his customary seat in Sherlock’s sitting room.

“I only got a fleeting glance before she melted back into the crush at Lord Habersham’s masquerade ball,” he said, setting his violin on the table next to his usual chair. He moved around the back of it and then flopped down, leaning his head back and shutting his eyes. “I spent nearly the entire evening looking for her, and now I have spent the last two days interviewing as many guests as I can find, and no one seems to know who this mystery woman is. It’s almost like she was a…a…fairy woman or something.”

John scoffed at that. “Really, Sherlock? Fairy woman? You must be at your wit’s end to even consider it.”

“You have no idea,” he said, lifting his head up. “But how can you explain a woman who is here briefly, for just one moment, and then nowhere in the whole of London the next?”

“Surely you could not have gone through the entire population of London already,” John said, gently teasing his friend.

“No, but it feels as though I have,” Sherlock said with a sigh. “I don’t know what to do.”

John raised an eyebrow. “You’ve had a soul mate all of…what, two days?” Sherlock nodded. “Two days, and you’ve lost all sense of reason. Approach this logically. You _do_ remember how to use logic, don’t you?”

Sherlock scowled. “Watch your tone, John.”

“Humour me, Sherlock,” John said with an amused grin.

Sherlock glared at him, and then sighed. “Fine.” He shut his eyes. “All right. I suppose I could speak to Lord Habersham about who was invited to the ball. Whittle down the guest list and see who the biggest gossipers are, or who the ones who pay the most attention to their fellow guests are.”

“That’s a start,” John said encouragingly.

Sherlock stood up and then began to pace. "From that list, I could see who fits the general build of the woman I met,” he said. “Approximately 1.6 meters tall, light brown hair, slim build, slightly muscular, which was admittedly unusual for a woman. And then I’ll have her say ‘I’m sorry' to see if I recognize her voice, as that is what she said to me.”

“That’s the spirit,” John said, grinning at his friend. “You know, you could try and have something put into _London Society_ to catch her attention. The editor owes you a favour.”

“That’s assuming she reads it,” he said, though he looked thoughtful. “And I’d rather keep that favour in reserve, should I need it for a case.”

“Yes, you do like to keep your favours close,” John said. He thought for a moment. “I know my wife and I don’t move in the same exalted circles that you can at times, but perhaps Mary can put out that she’s interested in learning what she can about guests at the masquerade ball from the working class, see what she can learn from the servants.”

Sherlock brightened at that. “Her contacts and ability to converse with the working class has been useful before. If she is willing I would be immensely grateful.”

“Oh, for this I don’t even think she would try and wheedle a favour out of you,” John said. “You know she would like to see you find the same happiness we’re lucky to have.”

Sherlock was going to reply when there was a rapid sound of footsteps on the stairs coming up to the sitting room. Both of the men turned and saw a young street urchin from his homeless network come into the sitting room, clutching a note. “Yes?” Sherlock asked.

“Sorry, sir, but I have a note for Inspector Lestrade. He says it’s urgent.” He came in and handed it to Sherlock. “Needs you right away at the Tower of London. Says it might have to do with the Diamond Jubilee.”

Sherlock unfolded the note and glanced at it, then nodded and set it on the table. “Send word that Dr. Watson and I will be there shortly, and tell him to send word to my brother. He should be made aware of this.”

The boy nodded. “Right,” he said before turning and hurrying out of Baker Street.

Sherlock began to put away his violin. “I’ll get ready quickly and then we’ll be off. But when you can, ask your wife to lend her assistance. I’d be most grateful.”

“I will,” John said with a nod. With that, Sherlock put his instrument away and then began to make his way to his bedroom to begin to get ready to meet Inspector Lestrade. He had a plan of attack now to find the mystery woman. This was a start. He felt better about the situation now, and, for now, that was something.


End file.
